


So Sweet and So Cold

by Aietox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aietox/pseuds/Aietox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drifting in the middle of an ocean shouldn't be so comforting, but what if he just wants it all to stop?</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Sweet and So Cold

He couldn’t exactly recall what he said to Morrell that day. How could he? When all around him the distant sounds of sloshing and babbling pushed at his cotton-headedness. He pinched his eyelids together in a vague attempt to mimic the motions of waking up. His stretching slow, allowing for the chill around him to seep into his skin.

He peeked just beyond the comforting lull of drooping eyelids. The dance of light played into his vision, fracturing and flitting in and out of the darkness below him. He opened his eyes wide. The playful illumination striking his honey brown eyes. His chest tightened and snapped a hand over his mouth and nose.

‘Voluntary Apnea.’ That’s what he had rattled off to Morrell. ‘That moment just before you take your first gulp of water and slip into unconsciousness.’ The turquoises of the water drifted in and out of existence before slipping into the shadowy nothingness below. After all, what was color but a play of the eye straining to categorize everything around you.

His right eye twitched as he willed his limbs to kick and drag himself to the surface of wherever he was, but being stuck in between the gentle dance of light and siphoning darkness, made moving quite the challenge. Just his luck that he would drown without really being able to pull himself to the surface. There was a bit of irony in there that he could hold two hundred plus pounds of muscle above the surface for nearly two hours and yet not be able to help himself.

The burning and stinging of his lungs spurned the tears to slip into the wetness around him. This was stupid. How did someone just wake up in the middle of… well an ocean and not feel the jolting shock that was falling into the water? He grimaced and reached into the recesses of his mind.

‘If you can hold off for just a few moments, that’s a few moments you have more to fight to the surface.’

But he had tried. He tried and he failed. Pressing his eyes closed he spread his fingers over his face and sucked in the first rush of water into his lungs. It was to be calm and soothing, at least that’s what he had read. It was odd feeling the small glimmer of self-awareness slip from you. His limbs twitched and he found himself opening his eyes. Small puffs slipped in and out of him not unlike breathing in the air of a fresh rain.

He felt the gentle tug of the current swish him from side to side, like a leaf floating just below the surface. His breathing evened out. He was supposed to be dead wasn’t he? That’s how drowning worked. People don’t just breathe in lungful’s of water and get to continue processing information in their brains. People don’t stay suspended in water without having water fill their lungs.His floating about shifted him to lie on his back, caressed by the current as if suspended by ghostly sheets, and stare up at the light glittering across him.

“Stiles…” a voice softer than a whisper played around the skin of his ears rather than drift melodiously inside. His breath hitched as the voice registered and a dim vision of a woman with flowing brown hair creeped into the fractures of light.

“Come with me. We can just let it all slip away, my firecracker.” His breaths came in short hitches as a ghost-like hand caressed his chin and the unmistakable mirror of honey brown eyes took him in. He nodded numbly, but it was wrong. Why was it wrong?

_‘You have to take care of him, firecracker…” a shuddered breath reverberated from his memories, “You’ll be all he’ll have left…”_

He nodded then too. He wasn’t finished. His dad still needed him. The sharp tug against his wrist pulled him from the numbness that held his thoughts.

 “Stiles!” The growl was more familiar than he would like to admit, but having something to latch onto and remember clearly was a far better choice than feeling like a subdued animal.

“D-Derek. What?” The visage dissipated leaving nothing but the soft laps of the current around them. His eyes searched the sharp angles and stubble that was Derek Hale’s face. Why was he here? Where was here? Was everyone else here too?

“Stiles, you have to listen to me.” Derek had gripped both of his wrists by then. A vice that should be given to someone who had taken a tumble off a cliff rather floating in an ocean like a piece of driftwood. “You can’t leave. I – We need you.”

Stiles blinked once. His face scrunching up in questioning, “Why?” It was stupid, especially at a time like this. Wasn’t he the one that constantly pushed them to realize he was more than just the librarian? He would have pushed more, complained, babbled, anything, but he resigned himself. He was tired, tired of talking, fidgeting, trying to prove something. “I just want to sleep, Derek.”

His head lolled back waiting for the light to crack and glint, to bring back the woman who had promised they could be together again. It was selfish. It was illogical, but what place did logic have where he could breathe and talk clearly under water?

“Stiles!” Derek jerked his head back to stare at him. Red tinted his irises. A rumble played just beneath his chest. “You can’t sleep here.”

Stiles furrowed his brow and sighed heavily, “Why not? It’s not like I do much.” He didn’t try to pull away or even think of a quirky remark.

Derek growled, his face scrunched up with slight anger. “Why are you giving up?”

“Giving up is not the same as giving in.” Stiles glanced around them and up again. “Look at it, Derek. I can stay here. I can sleep, drift and not have to worry about whether or not I’ll be kidnapped, maimed, or killed.”

“And what about Scott? Your dad?” Derek narrowed his eyes and squeezed at the wrists in his grasp.

“They’ll be fine.” Stiles knew it was a lie, but it was better he lie to himself now and regret later. By the looks of things, he would have a while to let them slip away, along with his guilt.

“They aren’t, Stiles. They are going out of their minds. When – When we realized that you weren’t waking up.” Stiles looked at him then. He was awake. Hell he’d been awake for a small while now, but what did that mean? If he was awake here, asleep somewhere else.

Without having to voice his questions, Derek continued, “They want you back. I…” Derek hesitated, but he could see a stirring in the dimness of Stile’s eyes. “I want you back.” Deaton had said it wouldn’t be easy. Men of higher caliber had fallen prey to sirens, drifting in a numbing, ephemeral realm where they feasted on the dying minds of their victims, but he knew. He knew that Stiles could come back. If any of them could, it was Stiles.

“Y – You want me back?” Stiles glanced at the hands around his wrists. He felt the warmth of them, a beacon of life in the otherwise chill of the ocean around him. “But… No. You’re just doing this for them.”

“Stiles, you mean more to us – me than you can imagine.” Derek hesitated but finally pulled Stiles close to him. Running his hands up defined arms, rubbing gently to shoulders and caressing the solid feel of his back under his palms. The strength hidden there, enough to keep his wolf under wraps without even trying.

Floating slightly above Stiles, Derek smoothed his hand to cradle Stile’s head into his chest. “You keep me here. After everything that we’ve been through my uncle, Gerard and the kanima, the alpha pack. It clicked and slid into place. You keep my humanity with you because you are so human yourself.” He looked down as he tilted Stile’s to look up at him, “You anchor me. I choose to accept that. To hold it close. To keep you closest than anyone else.” He moved Stile’s head to place his ear just above his heart. “I may not say it or show it, but you’re important to me. It – it beats for you.”

Stiles closed his eyes and listened to the steady thump of Derek’s pulse. A small smile played at his lips, “Fine, Sourwolf.” He looked up at Derek, still looking down at him. “Take me back.”

They kicked off at the same time. Derek gripped onto him tightly, keeping one hand on his lower back while the other laced the fingers of their hands together. The invisible pull that kept Stiles in place just between light and dark dissipated. He looked up at the fractured lighting playing at the surface as they ascended. He didn’t know what all this meant, what Derek wanted from him, but he knew that he would rather try and find out in a waking world than drift in a false cathedral of peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to a dear friend for the Beta.


End file.
